


My Name is Clarke

by Enyn_Skyeward



Series: No One becomes Someone [18]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Death, Epilogue, F/F, F/M, Hope, Love, Marriage, Memories, Pain, Relief, long life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enyn_Skyeward/pseuds/Enyn_Skyeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of her life allows Clarke to tell her story about who she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Name is Clarke

**Author's Note:**

> I know this series had a few more chapters planned but with uni and two other ongoing stories, I felt the need to just deliver Clarke's view of herself.
> 
> I hope this brings closure to this story as it was very painful to write but OH SO BEAUTIFUL!!!

She became legend, stories told to children through the ages of the mighty Wanheda who created war and peace in a single year. A woman who stole the heart of Heda, co-ruling an empire as a princess. The city of Polis would forever remember a woman who walked through the streets and aided the people with whatever they needed. The walls of the palace, build up over generations, was decorated with the art of a woman who once lived there.

In the library, where children read books and generation after generation of Nightbloods learned their lessons, laid a book. The title was clear, the real story of Wanheda and it started like this:

* * *

My Name is Clarke

Written by: Clarke Griffin of the Sky People

I have earned many names over the years, most of them in honor of me but some showing the dishonor I earned by painting my hands in blood. I have been called Wanheda, Princess of Polis, Hedatu, Wife of the Commander, Mother of the Commander’s children, and so many more. Despite all this, I once called myself ‘No One’ and this is the story of how I went from being Clarke Griffin to No One to just being Clarke.

My story started above the ground, 97 years after the Old World ended and the New World begun. I was just a girl, locked away for aiding my father…

* * *

I never imagined that the moment I stepped into that tent, preparing to plead for a boy I thought I loved, that I would be staring at the real love of my life. The mighty Commander, Heda to those of her people, held more power than any one person could understand but she was only a girl too. She was twenty-two, the weight of the world on her shoulders, a lineage paved in blood and war. She came seeking our deaths, those that fell from the sky but she once told me she fell in love with me from the moment we met. My courage to speak against her, to challenge her had made her see that I wasn’t the enemy but an ally.

All I saw was a beautiful face, bright green eyes and the ornate dagger she loved to play with. I later discovered it was a method to keep her from being tense, it was to calm her nerves. I never learned why she was so nervous to meet me, she seemed as if she wanted to kill me. I often laughed over the years that with my temper, she probably should have. I wish I had known then what I know as I write this, that I could tell my younger self to stand strong and not be afraid. After all, even though we were enemies, she was my soulmate. She was my beautiful Alexandria, my beloved wife who I would forever love and always know that one or two lifetimes would never be enough…

* * *

She called me Clarke, even when I embraced Wanheda. In the public eye she conceded to call me that name, to allow the fear it carried to embolden me further. Even as my hate of her grew, locked away in that room for a week, my love grew stronger. I wasn’t blind or stupid, I know she kept me from the Ice Queen’s hands not only for the power I could give her but also because I was her weakness. I was the second person she allowed herself to love and she wouldn’t see me suffer as her beloved Costia did. Even I find myself saddened when I hear or speak her name, Costia was a part of Lexa that I often heard of from her. She knew I held no malice towards the girl, instead insisting Lexa keep her memory alive by telling me about her.

The Ice Queen wouldn’t have me, Lexa would protect me and keep me from harm. Except Lexa failed to understand that during that time, she was the one harming me. It was only when I placed a knife to her throat, she finally understood my pain. She told me how she was sorry, how she never wished to turn me into Wanheda. I broke and then she did, she was going to let me go home. On the eve of war, with the Coalition threatening to crumble she was going to let me go, let the power of Wanheda go, because she was hurting me. In that moment my mind cleared, the knowledge that she was risking everything so that the woman she loved could heal, I gave her what she needed. I gave her Wanheda and it would forever be the best decision of my life…

* * *

Daya was a light for her mother and I, we could not have asked for a better daughter. Years later when she grew to be Healer of Nightbloods, she’d surprise us all with her choice of a houmon. It led us all to realize she was too much like us, even if she wasn’t biologically ours. Her brown curls, so much like her mother’s and blue eyes like mine, she was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful when fully grown. She once claimed I was the most beautiful woman in all the clans but I think even Lexa would agree that the girl we raised made us look plain.

My beautiful girl, tough but fragile in some ways. Perhaps we too often gave her whatever she wanted, let her do whatever she wanted. Titus’ protocol and political lessons were taken to heart, when there were guests she was obedient and subservient like any person of Polis would be. In private, Lexa indulged her and I was lost in her laughter. I still believe it rings in the halls of Polis, her first laugh when I took her in as my apprentice. She was to learn my healing trade but Lexa fell for her first, long before I did but when I did, she was mine. My baby, my little girl who would always be special to me…

* * *

I loved my mother, I loved her despite her flaws and her choices. I remember her painful looks when she thought I did something dangerous or her looks of awe when she realized how I never truly lost being her little girl. Despite what happened with my father, she moved on with Marcus Kane. I loved that man just as much as my mom, although I’m sure she loved him more, I’ll admit he was like a second father to me. He never questioned my decisions or my actions, he knew what it was to sacrifice for the good of the people. I think he accepted my relationship with Lexa long before my mother came to terms with the reality that we were really in love.

For the longest time my mother thought I was a political move for Lexa, a power grab. It was only after I came to her after my third year of marriage and asked for help with conceiving a baby that she realized how much I loved my wife. When I told her that I wanted to be a surrogate, to carry Lexa’s child so the child looked like my wife, I knew she understood. The idea of carrying a child, of knowing a part of your spouse existed in that child, it was something only a wife could understand. I know the fact she was unable to carry Kane’s child, to give him a peace of their union, was hard for her. She saw how happy he was with Daya, treating her like a grandfather should by spoiling her and teaching her. I just know that despite everything she was happy after so much hardship, living in Polis and working at the healing center…

* * *

After so many years together, sitting there watching Lexa die was impossible for me. I felt as if it wasn’t real, an illness we couldn’t cure killing a woman who was larger than life. I felt robbed, a tiny bacteria that was deadly to Nightbloods, took my wife of 37 years. She lived longer than any Commander before her, her reign as Commander 44 years. The seer said her life would be claimed by the gods and not a weapon, I guess the woman was right yet again. Daya couldn’t be there, she couldn’t be with her mother as she drew her last breath. Her Nightblood heritage robbing her of her beloved mother, the one who told her stories and made her believe that being a healer was greater than being a warrior. While Daya was not allowed in, to prevent her from getting sick also, our son was there to sit by his mother’s side, holding her hand.

She swore with her last breath she would wait for me in the next life, begging me to live and aid the next Commander. She knew I’d be okay, that a piece of her spirit would remain in the next Commander and make sure I was taken care of. I wanted nothing more than to die with her, I felt as if Polis was barely my home anymore. Despite the knowledge I had to burn her body to release her spirit, to allow the next Commander to be claimed, I wanted to keep her like she was forever. Her brown curls holding locks of silver, her beautiful skin just slighted with wrinkles that spoke of our years together and her hand, tight in mine despite her death. On her finger sat her Coalition ring, identical to mine except for the color of the stones. When the Fleimkepa took it from her hand I nearly screamed, for despite her successor having rights to it, they were essentially our wedding bands…

* * *

My beautiful granddaughter, Estelle, presented me with a painting that captured everything I wish had been captured years before. Her talent with a brush and colors far outshines my own, although she isn’t one for drawing. It was a painting of us four, of me with Lexa, Daya and Jake. The kids were still kids, apparently she’d gotten photos from Arkadia and felt the need to use all of them to create a painting of our family. I cried, for it was going on five years without Lexa beside me. Daya held her daughter as I held the painting, insisting that I’d talk to the new Commander about hanging it in the palace.

I’d long since moved out into the Skaikru sector, the new Commander taking up residence in the quarters that Lexa and I had shared for almost four decades. It was the way of Polis; the palace was the Commander’s home. When Aden wasn’t chosen by the spirit, instead a younger Nightblood with a strength I recognized when I met her, I was happy. Aden had grown up learning from Lexa, then watched as she reigned for decades. He was content being a husband and father, his choice of Daya after she’d grown up was a surprise. Apparently she’d been in love with him since she’d been six years old. Kya’s death due to a stabbing years before had broken him, but then Daya had healed him. Lexa and I used to joke of how Aden was perfect for our family, he’d grown use to the way we hid our lives in our private quarters and acted as strangers in public…

* * *

My journey has come to an end, just as this book has. I wanted the world to know me beyond the ever-growing legends, beyond the titles I’ve accumulated over the years. I wanted them to see me as Clarke, as a girl who became a woman. As someone who loved and lost and loved again. As someone who suffered from the wars she was in and thrived in the peace she created. I know my days are numbered, I can feel death slowly coming for me. I don’t fear it; I never really have but this time I know I’ll be okay. My death brings me closer to Lexa, to the woman I’ve been without for almost ten years. My daughter and son are grown, happy with their children and grandchildren. My city is at peace and my people thriving, intermixing with those that became my people long ago.

I don’t finish my story with sadness, I finish my story with the knowledge that I’m not ‘No One’ anymore. Wanheda was the leader, Prisa was the protector, Hedatu was the advisor…

I’m just Clarke: 

Daughter...

Wife...

Mother...

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment to met know what you think of this epilogue.


End file.
